


Your Hands (At the Back of My Neck)

by Schizzar



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Allusions to past consensual hitting that could be considered abusive (description in the notes), Blow Jobs, D/s elements, F/M, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizzar/pseuds/Schizzar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Natasha are a package deal when it comes to missions. When they lose the one man that could handle their oddities, Nick Fury's only option is to give them a new handler that's just as damaged as they are. </p><p>Somehow, it all works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Hands (At the Back of My Neck)

**Author's Note:**

> There are allusions to what could potentially be considered abuse in this story. The physical abuse was entirely consensual between the two characters, though it is not thoroughly discussed. 
> 
> Also, this story is a gift fic for a friend of mine. Hope she likes it, and she knows who she is and yada yada.

            Agent Dodge lasted the longest. Two years putting up with the combined harassment of Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff. Fury had learned early on that they were worse when apart and while it took awhile to find an agent to put up with them, it was generally worth it.

            But then Agent Dodge had gone and gotten himself killed and Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff had all but shut down. They still got the job done, but were pulled off the field when they tanked their psych evaluations because they were at risk for succumbing to 'homicidal desires'. Which left Fury in the delicate position of finding them a new handler who could well...handle them.

            Fury got to be where he was by making the best damn gambles in the organization. But this one...this one had a chance of failing and losing him three of his best up and coming agents. Permanently. It was a dangerous chemical mixture, but he knew if mixed correctly under the perfect conditions, he would have the deadliest, most efficient fighting team SHIELD had seen in a long time.

            Agent Coulson was ruthless, but his heart was practically gold. Fury had found only one agent in the last fifteen years that was able to compliment the man's paradoxical personality, and one bad call from Agent Coulson had landed the agent in his care six feet under.

            So he had three grieving and angry and deadly agents on his hands. In his mind, the only option was to put them together.

 

-.-

 

            Clint was tense, though his posture, slouched and sprawling in the uncomfortable meeting chair would suggest otherwise. Fury stood at the other end of the long table, hands behind his back, another man standing slightly behind him with the exact same stance.

            "With all due respect sir, Agent Barton and I have yet to pass the psych evaluations. We aren't allowed on the field yet. Why give us a new handler?" Nat asked.

            She sat beside Clint in her chair, straight back, hands placed in her lap. They sat that way on purpose, polar opposites, so that the new handlers never knew how to speak with them. The agent standing behind Fury didn't look the least bit ruffled.

            "I want to give you a trial run. An easy mission, just to get your legs underneath you again," Fury said.

            "So if I get a little trigger happy, no one has to clean up too big a mess?" Clint asked, allowing a lazy grin to stretch over his lips.

            "Agent Barton, one cannot go 'trigger' happy with a bow and arrow," the man behind Fury said quietly.

            "Oh baby, you should see me with my bow. You'd take that right back. I'll shoot faster than anyone you've ever met, and in this case, I promise that's a good thing," Clint said, grin widening.

            But the agent met his gaze without even a flicker of uncertainty. Clint would have risked a glance to see Natasha's reaction, but that would make it too obvious that the testing had already begun. And this man was passing.

            "Agent Barton, if you are quite done with your childish behavior, I would like to properly introduce you to your handler," Fury said, the impatience in his voice growing.

            "Oh, of course. And my behavior is always mature," Clint said.

            "Clint. Stop," Nat ordered. Her voice was quiet with its command, but he obeyed regardless, leaning back in the chair once more.

            "Thank you, Agent Romanoff. Now this is Agent Phil Coulson. He is your new handler. If you could do your best to _not_ fuck this up, I would greatly appreciate it," Fury said. "I will leave him to debrief you on your mission."

            Fury fixed them each with a harsh stare before exiting the room, leaving them alone with their new handler. Coulson unclasped his hands to reveal two manila folders, which he slid down the table for them. Natasha didn't move, so Clint picked his folder up. They had a system to unbalance their new handlers. First, Natasha would come off as the compliant one, willing to take orders, then they would switch. They were consistent in their inconsistency.

            "I love Malaysian princes," Clint said as he read over the file. "Always so willing to talk after a few rounds of a beating."

            "SHIELD does not want them to come to any harm. This is simply an extraction of information. Natasha will question him. You will accompany her and run back up after she is able to get him alone. You will deter anyone who comes looking for the prince. Without physical force."

            "No," Clint said. "I'll interrogate the prince."

            "You're too volatile. We'll stick with Natasha," Coulson said.

            "Just because Nat has better tits doesn't mean I can't seduce my way to the guy's deepest government secrets. I'm charming," Clint said.

            "Clint you don't _have_ breasts to begin with," Natasha said.

            "Only flaw in my argument," Clint said.

            His gaze locked with Coulson's, but there was still no flicker of uncertainty in the man's eyes. "I am not changing the plan because you feel like playing spoiled brat, Agent Barton. You follow my plan directly. You won't like what I'll do if you move even a hair outside of what I order."

            The words weren't angry. Agent Dodge had reined Clint's natural tendencies to resist orders and wreck havoc with a loud voice and rough hand. Clint didn't like being hit, reminded him too much of his childhood, but sometimes, in some twisted way, it was like love. Love in the only way he had ever known, and Dodge had known just when to deliver a well placed backhand to get him in line. If it wasn't done right, Clint only got angrier and more petulant. It was stupid, made him feel less than human, but Nat had a way of helping him with that part.

            He had gone weeks without being reined in and showed who was boss, and now Coulson spoke to him in a voice that demanded compliance but didn't bother to back it up with a sting of pain.

            "I think I'll like that more than what you're bringing to the table now," Clint said as he reclined back in his chair once more.

            Coulson lifted a single eyebrow, the closest thing to emotion they had seen on his face. "Both of you, read what's in the folders. I expect you back here, four in the morning. We leave an hour after."

            "I don't like reading. Never my strongest skill," Clint said sliding the folder back down towards their handler.

            "You were reading just fine a few moments ago." Again, Coulson didn't seem angry, instead just calmly picking the folder back up.

            "It comes and goes," Clint said, watching for a reaction.

            "I see."

            Clint felt anger rising up in his chest. Coulson's dismissal was worse than being hit. Before he could say anything though, Natasha's leg hooked around his under the table, the bite of her heeled boot digging into his foot.

            "We'll be going now," she said, unhooking her leg and standing up.

            "I will see you tomorrow then," Coulson said with a short nod. He didn't look at Clint.

            Natasha walked away, her brisk steps taking her to the room she and Clint shared at headquarters. Clint followed, he always followed. The only other option would be to go back and start hitting Coulson until he got hit back. Natasha opened the door, holding it open for Clint to walk through. He didn't hesitate despite knowing what would happen when the door closed. It latched shut, and then Nat had a hand at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his blond hair and yanking his head back.

            "Stop being a brat," she ordered. Unlike Coulson, she had the bite to back up her bark, nails scraping at his scalp.

            She tossed him away so his knees slammed against the hard floor, but then she was in front of him, catching him and easing them both onto the floor. She sat with Clint's head in her lap, fingers carding through his hair with a much gentler touch. Clint nuzzled her leather-clad thigh as his heart rate slowed back down.

            "Coulson isn't Dodge, Clint. You can't keep goading him like that. You're only setting yourself up for failure. He's not going to hit you to keep you in your place."

            "So what do I do?" He curled up a bit as Nat began to trail her finger over the bridge of his nose, following the line of his cheekbones and jaw in a never ceasing motion. It soothed him, sort of.

            "I don't know," Natasha said. "He's no Dodge. I don't think he'll ever hit you. Dodge was just as unhinged as you are. Coulson looks to have it all together. What you and Dodge had..." She swept his bangs back, fingers drifting over his eyelids. "Was destructive and abnormal but you made it work. I don't think you can get the same thing from Coulson."

            "You don't know that," Clint said.

            "I have a feeling he could just gently restrain you if you kept railing against him," Natasha said, the hint of a laugh in her voice.

            Clint opened up a single eye to look up at her. "Gently? You don't gently restrain someone."

            She shrugged. "Okay, maybe he'd just taze you. Either way, don't try and replace Dodge with Coulson. You're only going to be disappointed."

            He sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not important. What about the mission? You okay with playing seductress or whatever?"

            "Of course. I always am."

            "I know you're lying Nat. You always hate it, but are you liable to rip his face off if he calls you pretty?" Clint turned to look at her.

            "Yes. But Coulson doesn't need to know that," Natasha said with a nonchalant shrug.

            He leaned forward, broad hands resting heavy on her shoulders. "I'll be listening. If I hear you losing it, I'll stumble on in and we'll get you out."

            "You'll ruin the mission if you do that," Natasha said, but a smile was tugging at her lips.

            "I think we both know I don't give a damn about the mission. You're the most important thing," Clint said. "Coulson can go fuck himself if he cares more about some Malaysian prince than you."  
            "You know the same goes for you right?" Natasha didn't move his hands away, so he slid them down to squeeze her upper arms.

            "Yeah I know."

            A coy look entered her eyes and a thin red eyebrow crooked up. "So that was an interesting tactic earlier. I've seen you charm your way into a Handler's pants before but it was like you weren't even trying."

            Clint grinned. "Had to spell it out for the man. Don't think he'd know a shitty pick up line unless I threw it at him."

            As he spoke, Natasha pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist before resting her head on his chest. "But do you want to? Really want to?"

            "Nah, the guy's a bit of a dick," Clint said, a broad hand resting warm on her lower back. "Besides. It's like you said. He's no Dodge."

            Natasha made a noise of discontent in her throat before closing her eyes. "Ten minute nap?"

            "On the floor?" Clint asked, even as his own eyes slid shut.

            "Sure why not? Slept on worse."

           

-.-

 

            Nat tucked another knife to her thigh, high enough that even if the prince got handsy he wouldn't feel it. Clint's arms were crossed tight across his chest and he stared pointedly out the limo window. Coulson was next to him.

            "So are we all clear on what the plan is?" Coulson asked. For the fifth time.

            "No, sorry, I suffered short term memory between now and four minutes ago when you asked the last time," Clint drawled. He still didn't look at Coulson. "Do I have to explain it again?"

            "No, my apologies."

            Natasha's hands froze halfway through adjusting her hair bun, blue eyes sliding over to stare at their handler. The man gave a patient, if somewhat strained, close lipped smile in return. Her gaze slid to Clint, but his only reaction was a slight tensing in his shoulders.

            "This is my first mission back too," Coulson continued.

            Natasha caught Clint's gaze when he sucked in a breath and turned towards their handler, stopping whatever insensitive retort was building up in the archer's throat.

            "Back from what, sir?" she asked, fingers returning to twisting her hair into shape.

            "I was on leave, recovering from my last mission," Coulson said. "My apologies if I seem extra cautious."

            "You don't have to apologize, Clint is just being an asshole sir," Natasha said. Her hands fell to rest in her lap as she shot a glare at Clint.

            The other agent went back to staring out the window. Coulson tested their comms two more times before they arrived, ducking out of sight when they pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. Clint stepped out first, guiding Natasha after him before shutting the door. Coulson would be going around to another building to observe, as most handlers did, keeping a close ear on the comms to make sure everything went smoothly, and rein them back when they needed it.

            Not that Nat nor Clint ever really reined back when ordered, but most of the handlers were already aware of that when they were assigned to the two agents. For the most part, the mission went on without a hitch. It was standard, routine almost, and Natasha was quick to suggest she and the prince go somewhere quiet to talk.

            Clint tailed them as always, at a safe distance, making sure to flirt with the ladies as he slid easily across the main room, up a staircase and down the hall where Natasha had followed their target. He stopped a safe distance away from the door they left through, mingling as he continued to listen to the conversation through his comm piece.

            Natasha was an expert, giving away nothing but lies about herself to encourage the man to brag about his own deeds. This was the part of the mission Clint always hated. He hated listening to the way men spoke to her, hated listening to how they treated her as an object, and the feelings were something she laughed at him for having. She said it was endearing, how protective he was. He didn't say a word when she got the same way when he played bait for the wives of important world leaders. Perhaps it was just another way their dysfunctional and yet comfortable relationship worked.

            "You need to calm down."

            Clint's fists clenched as Coulson materialized in front of him, jaw twitching. "I thought you were in the other building."

            "I prefer to observe my missions from the ground," Coulson said. "Less chance for error."

            "You can't see as much if you're on the ground. You can see all the pieces if you're at a distance, so why aren't you somewhere else?"

            Coulson gave an emotionless smile. "Because you look positively murderous and while you are succeeding in preventing people from going down that hall, you are also attracting unnecessary attention."

            "Well sorry, maybe you should've let me seduce the prince," Clint said, jaw still tight.

            "We work under my plans," Coulson said. "And only my plans. Do what you're told, and don't draw attention to yourself." Coulson's head tilted to the side and he smiled again. "Now, Natasha is almost done. I will go get the car."

            "Thanks hunny," Clint bit out, sarcasm heavy.

            And then Coulson did something entirely unexpected. He stopped mid turn and turned back to look at Clint, and without a single change in expression said, "You're welcome, dear."

 

-.-

 

            "We're separated for the next mission," Natasha said, handing a folder to Clint. "Or rather, we don't even have the same mission."

            Clint shoved the arrow he had just finished fixing back into his quiver before standing up from the bed and crossing over to Natasha to grab the folder. "Been awhile since they did that. Who's going with who then?"  
            "You've got Coulson," Natasha said. "I've got some other guy, Agent Reid. It's a short mission, so that must be why they're okay with separating us."

            "And I'm the one that gets stuck with Captain Fun-Sucker?" Clint flipped the folder open, shaking his head.

            "Well I am the more responsible one out of the two of us," Natasha said. "They must think I preform better when your childish habits aren't rubbing off on me."

            "Ha, bullshit," Clint said. He snapped the folder shut. "It's another one of those sit in a cramped area for long periods of time and wait for your target to show up. They really are taking their time easing us back in, aren't they?"  
            "Apparently but it's probably a good idea," Natasha said as she flipped through her own. "I leave tomorrow morning. What about you?"

            "Two days from now. Says it'll take me 48 hours max. 48 hours with only Agent Fun-Sucker as company. I'm so screwed," he said. He slid the folder from her grasp and tossed them both on the bed before turning back towards her.

            "You should try and get along with him," she said.

            Clint raised an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

            "Because I know you're tired of fighting and I heard you two on the comms on the last mission. You two will get along, if you let him in a bit," she said.

            "Nat, you know I don't do that," Clint said. "You know I don't do that. Not really. Not even with Dodge."

            "You have to let someone else in besides me, Clint," Natasha said, stepping forward. Her hands slid up to cradle his face, her lips lightly touching his. "And I think Coulson is going to be a good addition."

            "It's been one mission-"

            "And he handled it, and you, better than Dodge did on his first run through," she said. Her eyes searched his, for what he didn't know, but she must have found it because she stepped back away from him a bit more relaxed. "He's alright in my book. Now it's just up to you."

            Clint hated when decisions were left to him. 

 

-.-

 

            "Entertain me."

            "Focus on the mission Agent Barton."

            "I'll focus better if I'm not bored."

            "You will be distracted. Focus."

            "But I'm bored."

            "Agent Barton."

            Clint jerked at the tone, almost dropping his bow as his spine curled. That was it. The same feeling he got when Dodge was about to deck him, the feeling that made his stomach burn, his head float, and his focus sharpen. "Sorry, sir."

            Coulson didn't dignify a response. Clint didn't move an inch except to fire his bow one time, and he didn't speak a word until debriefing began.

 

-.-

 

            Natasha gave a soft noise of discontent, pressing down harder into Clint's tight shoulder muscles. "You are wound tighter than I've seen you in a long time. What happened on the mission?"

            Clint gave a soft groan, hands fisting in the comforter as Nat's fingers worked over his bare back. "I don't even know. He just. Got to me, in a good way at least. I kept waiting for him to throw me down and ravish me but he never did."

            "So you've spent the last few days horny without any release," Natasha said flatly. "Oh lovely. You should talk to him."

            "And say what? Please have hot, rough sex with me, it'll calm me right down?" Clint was about to add something, but then Natasha's fingers were sinking into a particularly painful knot and his breath became shortened, gasped out pants.

            "I don't see why not. He'd probably take it in stride," Natasha said. "He's close to giving you what you need. So are we keeping him?"

            "He's as close as anyone will get," Clint finally managed as the knot released. "But he'd be perfect if we could add in the sex."

            "Why? You and Dodge never did."

            "Is that jealousy I detect?" Clint teased.

            Natasha smacked the back of his head. "No, you ass, and you know it. I'm just saying Dodge gave you what you wanted without sex. Why can't Coulson do the same?"

            "Because they aren't the same person," Clint said. He sighed, then rolled onto his back. Natasha stayed steady, so when he settled once more she was straddling his stomach, leaning her elbows on his chest. "I'm not saying no sex is a deal breaker though. He'll do. He...can get me to focus and that's what important. You can deal with all of the tension from it afterwards."

            Natasha nodded, but there was something in her expression that made him wary. But she hadn't led him wrong yet, so if she had an idea, he was willing to see it play out.

 

-.-

 

             "Sir."

            Phil Coulson looked up from his paperwork. Not many people could sneak in without his noticing, but his door had been propped open, and the Black Widow was known for her silence. He supposed he could let it slide that he hadn't detected her.

            "How can I help you Agent Romanoff?" he asked, capping his pen and setting it on top of a stack of papers.

            "It's about Agent Barton, sir," she said. "Your behavior towards him is slowly driving him insane. He does not think it is a major problem, he thinks he can deal with it, but I happen to know he can't. You get him to focus on missions."

            "I'm failing to see how that's a bad thing," Phil said, leaning back in his chair and folding one leg over the other.

            Her gaze sharpened, but other than that, her straight posture didn't shift. "You get him to focus, but you never ease him back down. I don't care how you do it. Dodge just smacked him around, sparred with him sometimes. And of course there is always sex. But I can't ease him down. It has to be you, because you're the one getting him to focus."

            "Are you telling me that Agent Barton needs someone to give him permission to _relax?_ You realize that man ignores every other command, yes?" Phil asked.

            "Sir, you are avoiding the subject," Natasha said. "Yes, he needs permission from the one who commands him and that someone happens to be you. Fix it. Before I do."

            "Was that a threat, Agent Romanoff?" Phil asked, his tone pleasant as a smile flitted about the edges of his lips. This was more emotion on her face than he had seen in all the time she was under his command.

            "I don't make threats, sir." She gave a brisk nod and turned on her heel, leaving him to mull over her words on his own.

            He supposed what she said made sense, went along perfectly with his own observations actually. Clint had constantly railed against him, against every handler he had ever had, and yet on the last mission when he had finally let the man know with his voice that he wasn't going to take it anymore, the archer had fallen into line without further complaint. Perhaps he needed a similar order to unwind.

            Still thinking, he picked up his phone and punched in the archer's number for his work phone.

 

-.-

 

            Clint knocked on Coulson's door, every muscle in his back tense as he did so. The man had called him during training, ordered him to his office in that same toe-curling tone of voice. He wanted to protest at first. He was training and he didn't like being interrupted for that, but the way Coulson had ordered it made him _want_ to obey.

            The door opened and Coulson let him in wordlessly. Clint hovered by the door after it clicked shut behind him, watching as Coulson sat down at his desk. "Come sit down next to me."

            Clint's jaw trembled at the tone but he obeyed, grabbing the chair and beginning to drag it towards the other side of the desk. Coulson glanced at him and he stopped.

            "On the floor, please," Coulson said.

            Clint didn't reply, but he did obey, kneeling on the floor and resting his hands in his lap. He flinched when Coulson's hand came down to rest on his head, petting back to settle over the back of his neck.

            "We're going to stay like this until I'm done with my paperwork. If you need to unwind further, if you're still tense, I need you to let me know how I can help," Coulson said. "And once you are relaxed, we can talk."

            Clint nodded his understanding. A bit of anger burned in his stomach as he realized that Natasha had spoken to Coulson and tipped him off about what he needed, but now that he was getting it, he wasn't sure if he could complain. Coulson's right hand went back to the paperwork, and soon he began to drift, muscles easing under the steady weight of Coulson's hand on his neck. Every once and awhile, a thought would drift back in, but as if reading his mind, Coulson's hand would tighten and he would go back to floating.

            And then he hit the point that he had been waiting for. The part when he came back into his body, and felt at ease, not focused and tense and waiting for the next order. With a sigh, he leaned further into Coulson's touch so he temple was resting against the man's thigh, tensing for a moment as he waited for the man to push him away. Instead, Coulson's hand shifted a bit and began to run through his blond hair, drifting down his neck and then pushing through his hair once more.

            Natasha was right. The man was a good fit. But he wondered if Coulson would be willing to take it any further, because if he did...he couldn't help but shiver again, nuzzling the man's thigh and pressing closer.

            "You can respond when I talk now," Coulson said softly. "I wanted to calm you down before we spoke and you seem fine now."

            "Yes, sir."

            "I need to know what you want from me," Coulson said.

            Clint watched out of the corner of his eye as Coulson capped the pen with one hand, then turned his face into the hand on his neck, nuzzling the man's palm. "I think I've made that perfectly clear, sir."

            Coulson's hand tightened, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look up. "I am not taking this further until you tell me exactly what you want from me, Clint Barton. Am I understood?"

            "Yes, sir," Clint said.

            The hand eased, petting down the side of his neck. He wiggled a bit under the touch, turning his face into the hand once more. "I can't lie, sir. When you order me in that voice I'd do anything. It can be sexual if you want, hell I'd love for it to be, but it doesn't have to be." He eased back a bit so he could look up and meet Coulson's eyes. "If you can get me to focus and bring me back down, that's enough. The sex would just be a bonus."

            Coulson's expression was unreadable, but his thumb strayed over his lips, the tip pushing inside. Clint wondered briefly if it was a test of his self-control, if Coulson wanted to see if he could control himself when it came to being in the bedroom. A moment later, he realized that it was actually the exact opposite. Coulson had already forced him to get control of himself, and then had eased him down by making him rest and sit by his side. He was done with the control. Coulson wanted to see if he would simply do what he desired, give into what he wanted and just take.

            He parted his lips to take the man's thumb a bit into his mouth, nipping the tip and running his tongue over it. Barely a heartbeat after, Coulson eased his thumb away again.

            "One more thing then," Coulson said. "Actually, two. The first is, when we do this, you will call me Phil. Second, you can put a stop to this at any time. This is about you. I want to do what you need for me to do. What is that?"

            "I need you to be in control," Clint said, then paused. "Not...not the way you are in missions. I need you to let me take what I want but...make sure I don't get too out of control. Allow me to be out of control but feel safe because I know that you'll take care of me."

            For the first time, the man smiled at him, a genuine smile. "Good. I think...this will be beneficial for us both then."

            "Oh?"

            "How about I answer your questions after?" Coulson, Phil, leaned back in his chair, turning it so his knees were on either side of Clint's shoulders.

            Clint couldn't help the way his tongue flicked out over his lips as the man's slacks stretched over his hardening cock. "Yeah, yeah questions later, sure." His hands slid up to grasp at Phil's knees. "Can I...?"

            Phil slid a hand through Clint's hair once more. "This is about what you want Clint. I'll slow you down if I think you need it."

            "Oh, well in that case, I think I'll suck your cock until you come down my throat. I mean, if all parties are on board with that idea," he said, grinning up at the man as the final knot of tension he didn't know was there loosened in his chest.

            "I am very on board with that, and as charming as your snarky mouth can be, I'd prefer it somewhere else."

            Clint grinned and slid closer, nuzzling his way up the man's thigh as his hands made quick work of the belt and the rest, tugging the fabric down and away to expose his quickly hardening cock. He ran a hand up to the head, pinched the tip before licking a broad stripe up to the head.

            He had been lying to Natasha without knowing it. All the dominance games with Phil wouldn't be complete, he couldn't relax fully without this part, the ability to just take and not feel guilty or worried about it. He sucked the tip into his mouth, reveling in Phil's soft groans, giving one of his own as Phil's hand settled on the back of his neck and urged him to take more of the length into his mouth.

            Clint sucked sloppily as he went. Natasha never gave head, said she hated the taste and the feel and it wasn't something she'd ever do for him, and he had been okay with that. He could go elsewhere for things like that. He didn't get what she didn't like, because the taste of Phil's pleasure dripping onto his tongue made his own cock throb in sympathy.

            He pressed closer, his own hand sliding down to palm at his crotch as Phil's cock nudged the back of his throat.

            "You can touch yourself Clint," Phil said, voice breathy. "I want to see it."

            Clint squirmed. He spoke in the same tone he had into the earpiece earlier, and it made the same pleasure wiggle down his spine. He pulled off the man's cock, licking the tip once before looking up at him. "Keep talking."

            And then he dove back in, unzipping his own pants as he took Phil's cock down to the root, tongue laving best he could at the man's balls. For a heated moment, Phil's only response was a tightening of the hand on his neck followed by a harsh groan. As his own hand finally wrapped around his cock, Phil seemed to regain his composure.

            "I tried to tell myself it wasn't hot how eagerly you obeyed my commands earlier. I didn't know if you wanted this but now...now I see how perfect you are," Phil murmured, hand petting roughly at his neck. "You want to please me, because it gets you hard. You're doing such a good job..."

            Phil trailed off, hand drifting to stroke over Clint's cheek as he jerked his hips up a bit. Clint stroked his own cock to rhythm that he sucked, the occasional moan or whimper escaping his throat to vibrate along Phil's cock, and draw an echoing sound from Phil. Later, they would both remark at how embarrassingly quick they had finished, Phil's hand fisting in his hair as he shot his load on the back of Clint's tongue, a few stray drops dangling on his lips as Clint pulled off. Their eyes met, and barely a moment later, Clint's eyes widened and he was coming over the front of his shirt, head falling to rest on Phil's knee as he panted.

            "Phil..." Clint didn't bother to finish the sentence, figuring that the man got the gist of what he was trying to communicate.

            "Maybe you should get cleaned up," Phil said, hand still running through Clint's hair.

            "Hmm, what about questions?" he asked.

            He looked up at Phil as he tucked himself away, then moved to do the same for the other agent.

            "You'll have plenty of time to ask questions later, really," Phil said.

            "Yeah, okay." Clint rose to his feet, grabbing a tissue out of the nearby tissue box to wipe his shirt down haphazardly. "So I guess this means we're stuck with each other huh?"

            "You're not a bad person to be stuck with," Phil said, fingers hooking in the belt loops of Clint's pants and forcing him closer again.

            Then he stood, bringing them even closer, lips hovering barely an inch away. "Yeah?"

            "Yeah," Phil said. He closed the gap, giving Clint a gentle kiss. "I promise I'll answer all of your questions. But for now, let's just enjoy this, hm?"

            "Yeah sounds like a plan," Clint said, smiling against the older's lips. "You keep kissing me and we'll be heading for round two before I can go clean up properly."

            Phil's lips trailed over Clint's jaw, ending at his ear, in the voice that made his toes curl said, "That's the plan."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey I have a tumblr: schizzar.tumblr.com
> 
> I'll post updates on stories and stuff if you follow any of those things :D


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